Paper Trail
by Wrennydennydoo
Summary: Somewhere in the past, he left a note. It was vague, but clear enough for those worthy of a mystery to go searching for forever.
1. He touched their hearts

**_¡Hola, mi amigos! _**

**_I'm posting a new story. This may or may not be multi-chapter, and if I get at least two reviews I will do three. Sorry to the people who want me to update my Insight series and whatnot, but. This needed to come out of my head._**

_Disclaimer:_**_ I don't own hetalia. :(_**

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Across the sea, it is told that there is a land. And in that land, it is said, is a large city. And in that city, if you go to just the right place at just the right time in the middle of the month of July, you will see a man. A boy, just barely of age. And it is rumored that that boy has seen forever and beyond.

Little of him is known, except for the crumbled black-and-white photos sitting in a long-forgotten desk in an old dusty house, of a Queen and her King and the President of the United States of America. This boy has his arm slung around the influential world leaders, and is smiling brightly.

This is the boy that soldiers come back from battles remembering, hoping they can live up to his bravery and courage. This is the boy that children see in the streets helping that old lady across the street or playing football with them in the park. This is the boy whom will laugh with or at the angry man with the large eyebrows and brittish accent, or the perverted french man who does his best to irritate the brittish man. This is the boy who helps and supports and understands and still has ideals, even though he has seen forever and beyond.

This is the boy who does not act like he has seen forever and beyond.

"Can ya see him?" Three siblings, two boys and one girl, peer across the street to a building, one that shines proudly with some sort of inner light, proud of having stood so long.

"...naw..." The girl answers grudgingly, southern drawl strong.

"I told you ol' Pop's stories were a bunch o' bull!" The tallest, and oldest semi-yells. The girl rounds angrily.

"Ya'll shut up about grandpa Pop!" Her fists ball and she looks like she wants to punch her older sibling.

"Hey! I think that's him!" The youngest points out, almost fading into the background with all the commotion his brother and sister are causing.

Both stop their brief tumble and wordlessly call truce.

The girl pulls out a faded black and white out of a dirtied pocket and squints at it.

"Uh...yeah! It's him!" She yells, then ducks out from behind cover and rushes across the street.

Her siblings scramble to catch up, the older leaving the youngest behind.

"Wait for me!" He yells, dashing madly to the other side of the road and not seeing the hulking vehicle speeding through the area. The headlights are suddenly upon him and he freezes in the center of the road.

The boy expects to be roadkill. Instead, though, he is swept up by strong arms smelling faintly of old leather and cinnamon, with a hint of cherry blossoms. How any of those smells could go together the boy had no idea; they mixed to form a pleasant aroma.

His eyes are screwed shut and he thinks he's going to whatever afterlife exists until a voice says, "Are you alright?"

He looks up into the bluest eyes he has ever seen, hidden behind wire glasses frames. Stubborn blonde hair sticks straight up. This is the man(boy) from the photo.

"I'm fine... You're him, aren't ya?" There's a note of expectancy in his tone. "My Grandpa Pop knew ya in the war."

The man(boy) puts down the boy he saved, smiles, and slips right into that accent. "Depends, I've fought in a lotta wars. Which one ya talkin' about?" The boy shrugs.

"It don't matter. But have ya really seen forever an' beyond?" The expectancy is still in his voice.

The hero laughs. "I can't have seen forever if forever hasn't come yet."

The boy presses more. "But what does forever look like?"

His savior has this unfocused look behind his glasses. "...I don't know. I'll ask Freedom next time I see 'im."

And then the two siblings run across the street for their brother, and the man is gone in less than the blink of an eye.


	2. She looked anyways

Maria's great-grandmothers' diary, almost unreadable in places, was like an adventure; no, it was one. One full of mystery and intrigue, foreign places, sketches, dusty photos, poems, exotic plants, and descriptions of people whom were long dead and probably wrapped up in legends and secrets. It left Maria hanging in places, but by reading ahead she could infer what had happened. In places it felt like she was her grandmother.

One afternoon, as the sun was setting amidst reds and golds, Maria was reading in fading light on her porch when a particular paragraph caught her eye.

The most peculiar thing has happened these past days...(here the text became unreadable, due to mold)... They say that this man, of some authority under the government, never ages. I cannot fathom this, for how can a mortal be immortal? The other day in the street, I attempted to approach him but his attentions were distracted by a foreigner with the strangest accent! He must be from England, or 'across the pond', as they say. It was most amusing to watch them argue and I wonder how such an immature person is part of the government...(and more mold)"

Which is why Maria found herself in Washington, D.C. Maria wasn't quite sure who she was looking for. She was looking for someone, though. There was no description of the strange individual, and if there was a drawing it molded away. But Maria was curious. She loved mysteries, which was one of the reasons she read her great-grandmothers diary in the first place.

Of course, Washington Dc is a very, very big city. There are museums and stores and tall buildings historic sights and monuments and piles upon piles of places that Maria might find this man. And the chance that he was in the city was even less, and if Maria happened to pass him on the street she probably wouldnt notice him. The sheer improbability of the situation she got herself into was laughable; it would be easier to find a lost earring dropped in the atlantic ocean.

But Maria was in D.C. and she searched for three days, seeing the sights and walking through crowds until her feet hurt. Really there was no point, she thought on the morning of the fourth day of wandering. ( I mean, how many people do you know that would read a moldy ancient diary, get far enough into it to discover something interesting, then go search through a ginormous city with little to no chance of finding what youre looking for? )

At least it was a nice vacation.

But if she had turned and looked at the White House for a second longer, she would have seen exactly who she was looking for.

And the strangest thing was, she would have recognized him, too.


	3. It could have been written in tears

When in the course of history

Sometimes it becomes necessary

To break political chains and be free

This is one of those times

And we thought it courteous to take the time

To say why

Look left, dodge right

Tonight we might be looking for a fight

But it's about time for us to fly

You can't stop us but you can try

We agree that all men have unalienable rights

Like the pursuit of happiness, liberty and life

And by denying us these you cut through our colonies like a knife

You've ignored and taxed us, then angered us

And taken our voice

We've been good and tried to compromise

But now that push comes to shove we've got no choice

Look left and dodge right

Tonight we might be looking for a fight

But it's about time for us to fly

You can't stop us but you can try

So we write this to tell you why

And to say we've had enough

With this we're breaking free

Someday you'll understand, someday you'll see

Look left and dodge right

Tonight we might be looking for a fight

But it's about time for us to fly

You can't stop us but you can try

Sincerely, America


	4. They just assumed

_**Hey Peoples! Sorry I haven't updated in a while... :/ **_

_**Warning: Contains Mild USUK**_

**_Don't like, don't read._**

* * *

His name might have been Arthur, and he might have lived longer than the average person. He wasn't admitting anything, though.

The tea he was drinking had gone cold, dregs just barely visible under a milky skin. Arthur stared, eyes glazed over at the person who might have been talking- Mathew, was his name? Maybe?- but his voice was too quiet to be heard, just a lullaby to the worn-out ears of the Brit.

Almost... The clock ticked on the wall, and next to him a blue-eyed American stared longingly at it. As much as he valued his brother's views, he was boring. And quiet. And boring. And-oh he was repeating his thoughts. Silly him.

Three seconds...two seconds...good enough!

And the room was a bustle of activity as everyone grabbed papers and laptops and notebooks and pens and left the room. He was on his way out, before realising that someone was still at the table. Head rested on his arms, Arthur had fallen asleep... Again.

A devious smile spread across his face and he crept up behind Arthur.

"ARTIE WAKE UP!" He yelled in his friends ear. Arthur jerked awake and promptly banged his head on the back of the chair.

"Oh bloody hell, Alfred! I told you not to do that!" He yelled, rubbing his head. Alfred tried to look innocent.

"I didn't do anything!" He protested, pushing his glasses up his nose.

"Sure you didn't," Arthur muttered, glancing around. They were the only people still in the room. Inwardly, he berated himself for falling asleep during the meeting. As much as he loved Mathew, his speeches were boring and he was really, really quiet. So quiet that Arthur had forgotten his name once for a week. He felt bad about it after, but what can a man (or more) do?

"Wanna get sumthin' to eat?" Alfred asks casually, a brilliant grin lighting his face in infectious happiness. Arthur shrugs; trying not to feel too joyful about this but he can't keep his lips from curving up slightly.

"Fine, you bloody American, so long as it's not fastfood," he grumbles as his companion swings an arm around his shoulders and pushes up his glasses.

And if Alfred opened the door for Arthur but bowed jokingly, and Arthur hit him on the head but slipped his fingers through his hair, no one noticed.

Or, no human saw them. The same cannot be said for Kiku and Elizabeta, two of their friends, who were hiding around a corner.

"Francis owes me now," Elizabeta smirked, "They're so totally in a relationship..."


End file.
